I admire the weight you shoulder when the verse slide crashes wild.

How you endure the broken heaviness of the world.

I admire your courage to slide beneath waves and reveal riptides.

I am familiar with ruptures and how volcanoes spill.

I trust you, only you.

These brave beautiful Knights slinging verse down moonlight wooded hallways, listening for sparks to catch whirlwind glaze through a tunnel of ignited frost.

This valiant act of confronting anything.

This silent ocean spitting gleam or mad rocky bashing.

Turbulent restless insight.
Perceptions unhinged.
Inspiration unleashed.

I am writing to you.

My pocket pals and troubadours.
My fellow warriors of mystery.

I am pulled through wild glen by methodical mission mist- bound to digest every color.

I am a quicksilver super train vanishing down your slippery tracks.

Captivated by every thought-provoking bounce of playpen boulder dash.

You keep pushing my boundaries,
my expressive hunger never satisfied.

My words beg to dance through your pens, I am pacing enflamed decks, my ship is bursting in your poetic sea and I feel completely free staring lost into your bold horizon.

I see your eyes staring at me from the invisible plane of all creation.

I bleed in your tears.
I eat your fiery solitary words like buttered up raisin bread.
I am a scrap of dead raccoon hanging from your wild animus.

Digest me.
Compress me.

Send me East of Eden with nothing to eat wearing only a fig leaf.

Fill me with meadows hammered in full moonlight, just before the unknown flashes from the deeps.

Seize me with scaling emotions too tremendous to break free from.

Hold me captive.

Find my center, make it spin.

Fill my house with fire.
Make me find an exit for you to pass through.

I am choking on bracken takeover.
My eyes full of comforting solace.

No more brainwashing T.V.

If I see another pill commercial featuring suicidal thoughts and ****** bleeding I'm going to flip my ****.

Give me your cursive loops and well trained hawk eyes.

I need to cruise another sunset
free from this dried up perspective.

I am dying without your words,
my own words keep fighting with each other, you should see them out there in the mist running ragged.

They're a ****** Brooklyn rumblefish during a 3 day blackout.
Son of Sam is on a rampage killing
anything I scribble.

Every street on fire.
Every window broken.
The city is left to smoke.

I am turning to you.
My friends I've never met but feel like I've always known.

Your delicious pages keep turning in my heart and your truthful spirit is my company.

I am home.